Choppin' Broccoli
by theMagicBehindtheMask
Summary: "I wrapped her hand in a band-aid and tried not to laugh as Cyborg dumped the bloody vegetables in the trash."


I had a dream once that I owned the Teen Titans. But then, I also dreamed that I was a cat lady who hit a kid with my cane for trampling my petunias, and that my best friend was eaten by a blue dragon with a long and sparkly beard. All three situations are, in short, not currently true. (At least, I _hope _dragons don't exist. And if they do, I hope they don't eat my friend.)

Many moons ago, shortly after I wrote my first iPod Shuffle Drabbles for Teen Titans, I received a delightful comment from GrayAreas who, er, _commented_ that one of the drabbles could make a great full-length story. Thus this one shot was born. GrayAreas, this is for you.

iPod Shuffle Drabble #68; Choppin' Broccoli-

I wrapped her hand in a band-aid and tried not to laugh as Cyborg dumped the bloody vegetables in the trash.

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February 19, 2012

Jump City, California.

Titans Tower, 1:30 a.m.

I yawned as I stood from my office chair, stretching my stiff muscles and rubbing my eyes with gloved hands. I'd been filing reports for hours, but no matter how long I typed or scoured through past cases, my mental list of things to do never seemed to lose any length. Be that as it may, I was bushed.

Now I'm a pretty stubborn guy; just ask anybody. But when I'm typing normal sentences one minute and the next I wake up to find that my forehead has so graciously typed twelve pages of 'b's for me in the middle of a report, I can fully admit that I am tired and in need of some sleep. With thoughts of my warm bed in mind, I began the oh-so familiar trek to my room.

As they normally were at this time of night- er, morning- the only lights on in the hallways were the soft blue ones on the sides of the floor. When Cyborg had first installed them, I had ribbed him about his copyright infringement of airplane safety manuals. As I shuffled towards the living room tonight, however, I was eternally grateful for the gentle aqua glow that took the place of the garish overhead lights.

I stumbled into the dimly lit living room, only half seeing it through my jaw-cracking yawn. Low voices belonging to the cartoon characters on the television filled the room and I sighed, searching through the couch cushions for the remote. Unable to locate the shiny black rectangle and cursing Beast Boy's forgetfulness under my breath, I stalked to the offensive piece of machinery and hit the power button on the side of the screen.

To my utter surprise, though the pictures flashing across the TV screen disappeared in a flash of light, the murmurs did not. In fact, they only got louder. Curious, and more than a little groggy, I propelled my body in the direction of the voices and, consequently, into the kitchen.

I rubbed my eyes once to dispel the discomfort associated with adjusting to the harsh kitchen lights. Then I rubbed them again to make sure that I hadn't passed out and was really laying on my keyboard, dreaming. And I hoped to God I was, because if I wasn't, something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Raven was cooking.

My first thought, sleep-deprived and delirious as it was, was that Raven had something else terrible to tell us and was attempting to cook the Titans yet another breakfast, but had chosen a dish so complicated that it needed to be started at one-thirty in the morning. Needless to say, this thought was quickly dismissed, along with much of my initial apprehension.

My next theory was slightly more logical. Perhaps Raven had simply wanted a midnight snack? It was a mundane enough reason for being in the kitchen at such an ungodly hour of the morning. I knew that I'd been down in the kitchen for a snack at this hour more times than I could count.

There was a problem with that guess, however. I knew that Raven harbored a terrible sweet tooth. Had she come down wanting to eat something, she'd have gone straight for the pantry and her stash of sugary confections.

… At this particular point in time, she was julienning carrots.

The whole picture was nearing the realm of absurd. A long stretch of various vegetables lined the counters behind the half-demoness. I could easily point out minced peppers, some sliced cucumbers, diced potatoes; a plethora of other colorful veggies, all cut into even and proportional bits. There was no way that this was just a snack.

Cyborg's voice, though it was abnormally subdued, made me jump into the shadows to the side of the kitchen doorway.

"How you doin', dark girl?"

The cybernetic teen turned the corner from the pantry, open pudding cup in one hand, spoon in the other; the side of his face that I could see was stuck in a softer version of his normal grin.

I couldn't see Raven's face from the doorway, but I knew her well enough to know that the corner of her mouth had kicked up wryly when she replied, "Well enough."

Cyborg laughed and I inched my face further into the room, to better see just what was going on. "Maybe by next week you can graduate to turning on the stove. I wouldn't get my hopes up though, especially after what happened last time." Mirth rang through his voice even as I realized what was going on. In fact, it was so simple I was surprised I hadn't caught on before. Cy was simply teaching Raven how to cook.

It made sense, I realized as Cyborg began scooping the already cut vegetables into plastic bags and Raven moved on to chop a stalk of broccoli. Raven had been truly embarrassed at her inability to make her friends a decent breakfast that fateful day, though she had been careful to hide it as well as she could. It was so typical of Raven to, if she discovered that her knowledge in a subject was unsatisfactory, study and learn more about that subject. And what better way to learn to cook than by cooking?

The thought made me smile. She had tackled her inability to create anything edible the same way she would have approached a problem with her powers. There was no doubt in my mind that she had at least a dozen books about the culinary arts in her room that she had recently purchased and read since she decided to learn to cook.

She truly was something else.

As Raven was just finishing chopping her broccoli and Cyborg was busying himself with placing the bags of vegetables in the refrigerator, I decided to make my presence known.

Silently, I stole up behind Raven's back, looming over her shoulder just shy of being in her peripheral vision. Just as she was sliding the knife through the very last pieces of broccoli, I spoke up in a voice that was low and scratchy from exhaustion.

"New hobby?"

Their reactions were instantaneous. Cyborg jerked up so fast that he hit the back of his head on the top of the fridge, nearly causing him to drop the veggies he had in his hands. Raven, however, jumped so violently that the knife she held in her right hand slipped and gouged a deep wound into her left palm instead of the green plant matter it was intended for.

I immediately leaped to action and dashed for the first aid kit above the cupboards as Raven hissed and applied pressure to the gash on her hand, blood squeezing through her fingers and dripping to the counter below.

By the time Cyborg finally realized what had happened, I had already maneuvered Raven to the sink and rinsed the blood off of her hand. As I wrapped the wounded appendage in a towel to dry it, Cyborg snatched a rag that hadn't been bled on yet and started wiping up the bloody mess on the counter.

I unwrapped the towel from her hand as gently as possible and winced. The cut wasn't very long, but it was deep. If it had been anyone but Raven, I would have recommended stitches immediately. Being half demon had advantages in the healing aspects of life. She'd be fine in a day or so, and stitches would only be one more thing that her body would have to reject after they were put in. I pressed the towel into her palm once again with my right hand and rummaged through the first aid kit with my left for a bandage before finally meeting Raven's gaze for the first time that night.

I was fairly certain that she wasn't very amused with me.

Her normally relaxed eyebrows were drawn in irritation, and her lips quirked down in an annoyed scowl. "Regrettably," she began with a miniscule sigh, "this is not the first time that's happened."

I blinked at her admission, as I clearly hadn't been expecting her to say that. So, being understandably caught off guard and admittedly running on a sleep debt, I asked, "What number is it, then?"

She gave another tiny huff, but replied honestly. "The third."

I couldn't stop staring. "And... how long have you been doing this?"

Raven actually blushed delicately and looked away before answering in as normal a voice as she could muster that she had been taking lessons from their cybernetic friend for a total of two days.

Two days.

Three cut palms.

A snort of laughter escaped before I could control myself. However, at her immediate death glare, I managed to hold in my mirth as I wrapped her hand in a band aid and Cyborg tossed the bloodied vegetables in the trash.

_Besides_, I reminded myself as Cyborg and I shared an amused glance, _I'll have plenty of time to tease her later. _

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Alright. Now I'm gonna go call my friend an make sure he hasn't been, y'know, eaten yet. The prospect is a frightening one.

Thanks for reading!

-Magic


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